


Unintended Consequences

by shadowmaat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, demi CC-2224 | Cody, rako hardeen arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 05:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19266961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: After General Kenobi is killed by Rako Hardeen, Commander Cody is left to pick up the pieces. He tries to hold the rest of the 212th together while still dealing with the war, the cleanup, and his own complicated feelings for his General. Having Kenobi returned to them isn't quite the relief it should have been.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many MANY thanks to SLWalker for beta'ing, hand-holding, and generally being great.

They were given the evening shift off for mourning. Cody was still in shock. Most of the men were. General Kenobi was dead. On Coruscant, of all places. Not facing down hordes of battledroids, or trying to take on Grievous by himself, or leading them into the teeth of the Seppie fleet, no, Kenobi died chasing down a common criminal with two other Jedi as his backup.

Breaking the news to the rest of the 212th was one of the toughest things Cody had ever had to do. Seeing that gut-punched look of shock and denial that had been on his own face mirrored on the faces of his brothers was almost more than he could bear.

“It… this has to be a joke, right, sir?” Boil asked as Cody finished reading the short missive that the Order had forwarded to him.

Cody swallowed against the lump in his throat. “The Council isn’t known for its sense of humor, Boil.” He tried for a smile, but it twisted into a grimace.

“What… what happens now?” Porg asked.

Cody wished he knew. Death was a fact of life in the GAR. His brothers died by the dozens, the hundreds, sometimes the thousands, and the war never once stopped to blink. But somehow he’d managed to convince himself that General Kenobi would outlast them all.

Oh sure, the _di’kut_ had a deathwish as wide as the galaxy itself, but somehow he’d always come through it, cracking bad jokes even as Patch set his broken bones or swathed him in bacta. But now it seemed that Death had finally come to collect her due.

“Now we Remember him,” he said, meeting the eyes of any brother who could still look at him. “And tomorrow we go back to fighting.”

He knew there were deeper parts to Porg’s question, ones none of them seemed willing to ask out loud in the wake of such a loss. _What happens to us? Do we get a new General? Do they disband the 212th? Who are we without Kenobi?_ Cody didn’t have any answers for that, either. The message from the Council had just said to continue on and await further orders.

It wasn’t a good night for anyone. Remembrance was more somber than usual, and when the jet juice was passed around, Cody didn’t say anything, just took his share and passed the bottle. There were a few stories, a few jokes, and even fewer smiles. They couldn’t afford to get too drunk, not with them due to deploy in the morning, but when a couple of extra shots found their way into Cody’s hand, he took them.

They disbanded shortly before lights out, and Cody wasn’t surprised to see a lot of the men doubling and tripling up. Birth-borns tended to misconstrue clone cuddling, but sometimes a _vod_ just wanted to hold onto what he had. Or be held. He wished it was an option for him, but he had a long night ahead of him.

His first stop was to Kenobi’s quarters. He put in the door code and stood on the threshold, willing himself to take the next step. It was hardly the first time he’d been in the General’s rooms when the General himself wasn’t there, there were always reports to drop off or signed forms to pick up or whatever, but this time was different. This would be the _last_ time he entered the quarters of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

It was probably his imagination, but the air felt colder inside. He tried to stay on autopilot as he moved through the room, packing up Kenobi’s belongings so they could be sent back to the Temple for… whatever it was Jedi did with stuff when someone died.

There were more trinkets and mementos than he’d expected, including a holo of Ghost Company that they’d taken when he’d been laid up with a broken leg and they’d continued the fight without him. Even Cody was in it, mugging it up with the rest of them. “Wish you were here!” it said in a bright cheery font, though instead of a holiday backdrop of a beach or cityscape, it was a field of broken droids. They’d all signed it, some scribbling quick messages of encouragement or jokes. Kenobi had framed it and kept it on his desk. Cody’s throat tightened as he packed it away with everything else.

There was armor in the back of the closet, neatly stacked, but gathering a thin layer of dust. He’d worn less and less armor as the war progressed, complaining that it “impeded his movement” every time Cody or Patch nagged him about it. Seeing it now, Cody’s eyes burned. Even if he’d kept up wearing the armor he wouldn’t have taken it back to Coruscant. It was the one place he should have been _safe_.

He added the armor to the crate Kenobi had brought with him from the Temple and began packing robes around it. There was still room left over when he was done, though he had saved out one of the robes and Kenobi’s lightsaber repair kit. He sealed the crate and left it by the door.

There was one last robe draped on the pristinely-made bunk and as he picked it up he heard something in the pocket rattle. It took a bit of hunting to locate the pocket, but what he pulled out of it was a very familiar box. His breath hitched. RA-2291/L, spare radio antennas for his bucket. He didn’t lose them with quite the same frequency that Kenobi seemed to lose his lightsaber, but then again, whenever he lost one there always seemed to be a spare around. Now he knew why.

Cody sat on the edge of the bed before his legs gave out and cried. He cried for their General; a flawed, imperfect man who could run roughshod over the feelings and opinions of others, but who still had moments of generosity and kindness. He was daring and arrogant and wry, sometimes cold and distant and other times warm and friendly. Half the 212th seemed to harbor some form of crush on him and here in the privacy of his dead General’s quarters he could admit to himself that he wasn’t immune to Kenobi’s charms, either.

It was more complicated than that, of course, as all things about the General were. There were times when Cody wanted to throttle the man, or to pull him aside and remind him that while they were just clones, they were still human, but at the end of the day he would still have followed Kenobi to the ends of the galaxy and beyond. Part of it was the ingrained loyalty the Kaminoans had programmed into all the clones, but part of it was also Kenobi himself. There was a clever mind tucked away in that thick-headed skull and a gentleness that never failed to warm him. How much of that was Cody’s own feelings, though, and how much of it was programming?

He’d heard a lot of stories of _vode_ falling in love with their Jedi, enough so that it seemed a little suspicious, though maybe it could be attributed to working in close proximity to them with the constant threat of death hanging over their heads. It still left him feeling a little odd about it all.

Cody himself had never been one for developing inappropriate feelings. He could find people aesthetically pleasing, but had no desire to fall into bed with any of them. Even after he’d first been assigned to Kenobi, he’d understood why a lot of people seemed to find him attractive, but hadn’t felt any sort of pull himself. Not until they’d been working together for a few months and he’d gotten a better sense of who Kenobi was as a person. It had been a slow fall for him, one that started in admiration and then began to grow and mature into something more.

He’d kept his feelings to himself, of course. He didn’t want to burden Kenobi with something like that and wasn’t entirely sure how the General might react if he found out. Plus he was still struggling to determine how much of what he felt was genuine and how much was programmed in by the Kaminoans.

He’d never really made any determinations on that front and now it didn’t matter.

Kenobi was gone. Marching ahead or one with the Force or maybe just gone. No more late-night conversations that could range from battle plans to gossip to dreams of the future. No charging into the teeth of a fight to protect the General’s sorry _shebs_ as he tried to fight the whole war by himself. No more picking up shed robes or dropped lightsabers. And no more spare antennae when he needed one, either.

He buried his face in the robe, letting it absorb his tears as he breathed in the lingering scents of sweat, ozone, and that nasty tea the General had favored. Damn it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Cody had always assumed he’d die first. It was part of his job to die for his General, but it was more than just that. There had just been something so… vital about him. And yet he’d died first anyway. Stupid, selfish bastard, leaving Cody to pick up the pieces again.

He cried until he was wrung out and then, eyes burning and nose stuffed, he gathered everything up and left Kenobi’s quarters for the last time. The crate of belongings he stored in his own cramped room until he could find a shuttle headed back to Coruscant for delivery. The spare robes he gave over to a confused but willing medical droid. Maybe he should have woken Patch first, but at that point he couldn’t be bothered. Exhaustion dragged at him, but he still needed to review the attack plans one final time and maybe have a go at figuring out how to divide up the 212th with a minimum of trauma, should the Council decide to disband them.

Morning came far too early and was accompanied by a hammering on his door. Cody peeled his face off the datapad that had become his pillow and tried to unglue his eyes as he stumbled over to the door.

“You mind telling me what the kriff this is?” A red-faced Patch shoved a box at him, glaring.

Cody peered down at the little brown squares of cloth and rubbed at the grit in his eyes.

“Oh, good,” he said. “Gotta make sure everyone gets one of these before we deploy.”

“Are these what I think they are?” Patch demanded.

Cody looked the medic in the eye, squaring his shoulders. “They were the General’s. He knew our rituals and he wouldn’t begrudge us this.” He took a breath, his throat aching. “We’re taking him with us into the battle.”

Patch drew himself up and then deflated. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, that’s- I’ll help you distribute them.” He paused. “How are you holding up?”

“Ready to fight some clankers.”

They both knew that wasn’t a real answer, but Patch let him get away with it.

“Right. Just make sure you stay outta my tent, Commander.”

That was always the plan, even if it wasn’t always successful. They parted ways and Cody got himself cleaned and prepped for deployment. There was no time for any long speeches, but between himself, Patch, and a couple of medbots, they managed to get the little squares from Kenobi’s robes spread among the ranks. Cody’s own piece was locked in under his pauldron, where the General had frequently rested his hand while congratulating him on a job well done. He could almost feel the phantom weight of it now as he led the men forward to face the enemy.

The siege lasted for four days and left Cody little enough time to think beyond the next move. In the end, they manage to break the Separatist hold on the city of Troyer and drive them off the planet. It was a victory, but a costly one. As he looked over the list of dead and “missing” troopers, at a count that was higher than it should have been, an ugly thought crossed his mind: maybe some of his brothers had found their own way out. _They_ wouldn’t have to worry about what came next.

The crate was still sitting by his door when he got back to the ship. There’d been no word from the Council about reassignments, either, so he sent a new message. Not they they were likely to need any reminders. A terse message arrived the following day as they were on their way to the next skirmish: “Stand by for further orders.”

And so he waited. And fought. And waited some more. He had a dozen different drafts suggesting ways to break up the 212th, should it come down to that, and spent most nights offering reassurances to anyone who showed up at his door with concerns. Or after nightmares. Or just because they needed to see that he, at least, was still there. They lost a few more troopers along the way, but most of the fighting was minor, compared to what they usually got. Sometimes war was like that and in the past he’d been grateful for the reprieve.

Now, however, it left him with far too much time to think.

Senator Amidala had been wrong to blame the clones for dragging out the war; no one wanted it to end more than they did, but she was right in that the whole thing had gone on too long already. Too many lives lost, too many worlds ruined, and what did they have to show for it so far? He thought of shattered bodies on the battlefield. Of droids rusting in poisoned fields. Of Jedi raised for peacekeeping trying to be generals.

Cody and his brothers had never known anything but war. It was the reason they existed and it was hard for him to imagine any other kind of life beyond fighting, but sometimes he wanted to. Sometimes he daydreamed of what peace might be like. And in more recent months he’d started imagining what life might be like with Kenobi… with Obi-Wan.

It was nothing that could ever have happened and now it was even more remote. Impossible. Like wishing for peace. And so he’d follow orders like the good little soldier he was, and he’d keep fighting a war that didn’t want to end. Until it ended him. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Morning brought rumors of an attack on Chancellor Palpatine. No one seemed sure of the details, but everyone agreed that the Chancellor had survived. Unfortunately. Cody had never felt comfortable with the man or his policies. But then he distrusted politicians on principle. If anyone was trying to drag out the war, he’d be willing to bet it was them.

His comm pinged, notifying him of an inbound shuttle. From Coruscant. He stopped short in the hall, ignoring the aggrieved warble of the MSE droid that bounced off his boot. It must be their new General. Why else send him the notice? But why was this the first he was hearing of it? He pivoted, heading back to the training room at a dead run, barking orders into his comm.

The next hour passed in a haze of panic as he got everyone as armored up and polished as he could get them. They stood at attention in the Negotiator’s landing bay, watching the shuttle settle to the floor. The door popped open, ramp descending, and Cody gave the order. The 212th saluted as two figures emerged. One was unmistakably Anakin Skywalker, who had one of the fakest smiles Cody had ever seen plastered on his face. The man beside him kept his back straight but strolled down the ramp with a gait so familiar it made Cody dizzy.

The man was pale-skinned, bald, and bare-faced, but when those blue eyes found his and lit up with recognition it was all he could do not to throw up. What kind of twisted, cosmic joke was this?

Whispers had started in the ranks, but Cody ignored them, staring at the dead man who stood before them with a smile on his face.

“Well, hello there, everyone,” General Kenobi’s voice said from that unfamiliar-familiar face. “I can’t tell you how nice it is to see you all again! I’m sure you must have some questions.”

“This is your mess, Obi-Wan,” Anakin muttered. “You deal with it.” He stalked away, heading for the corridor.

The 212th surged forward.

_“General?”_

_“Sir!”_

_“Is that really you?”_

_“He looks like a Shiny.”_

Cody felt rooted to the floor. Rules dictated that he should walk forward to greet the General, but he couldn’t move. There was a roaring in his ears and his mouth felt dry. He still thought he might throw up.

General Kenobi was alive. He was smiling, shaking hands with the troopers, occasionally weathering a hug. Cody should put a stop to that and get them back in their ranks.

After a few minutes, Kenobi managed to herd them back into place. He asked for silence and received it and then he apologized for the subterfuge. The story that followed was ludicrous; only a Jedi could have come up with a plan that stupid and over-complicated, and only Kenobi could have pulled it off.

Cody listened, filing everything away for later consideration, when he was able to think again. He drank in the sight of the General, paler and thinner than ever and looking at least ten years younger. There was a dimple on his chin. A few small scars on his head; old, from the look of them. He was telling them about Rako Hardeen, the man he’d impersonated. The man who’d supposedly killed him.

Cody bore it all in silence, managing not to flinch every time Kenobi’s eyes found his. He knew he should be happy, General Kenobi was alive and in one piece and here. There’d be no disbanding of the 212th or fears of getting a replacement General like Krell. Everything could go back to normal.

Except. Except nothing felt normal anymore. And deep down on a level he hadn’t even guessed at, he felt betrayed.

Oh sure, he understood the Council’s reasoning for the secrecy even if he thought the plan itself was stupid. But this, more than anything else the war had thrown at him so far, drove home the fact that he was just a clone. They didn’t matter. They were only there to fight, not to think. And certainly not to feel.

It wasn’t like he expected anyone to pull him aside and explain the Council’s secret plans to him, but they’d still left him- they’d left everyone- hanging for two weeks with no idea what was going to happen to them. Troopers had _died_ thinking their General was marching ahead. Their General had been snatched from them and now he was being handed back and they were just supposed to smile and nod and move on.

From a tactical standpoint he was glad the General was back and it certainly eased a lot of the concerns he’d had about “what next?” But from a personal standpoint he just felt... numb. Scanning the hangar, he saw others who carried the same blank weariness, mostly among the veterans. Boil met his gaze and tilted his head ever so slightly. Cody nodded in agreement. It was more of the same from their General, but on a much bigger scale than usual. Watching the man talk to the troops and the ease with which words seem to come to him, it was clear he had no idea anything was wrong. And maybe nothing was, from his point of view.

The realization only made Cody’s heart hurt more.

With a wave, Kenobi dismissed the troops and Cody echoed the order, allowing the men to disperse back to their assignments or their bunks. He watched the General approach and snapped off a crisp salue.

“Cody.” Kenobi’s smile looked a little wearier now that he wasn’t the focus of attention. “I’ve missed having you by my side.” His hand came to rest on Cody’s shoulder.

“It’s good to have you back, sir.” He could almost feel that small square of cloth burning into his skin. He shifted a half-step away.

“I feel like I should apologize again for the subterfuge,” Kenobi said, allowing his hand to drop. “If I’d had it my way, I would have told you and Anakin, but the Council insisted.” He shrugged.

“You were just following orders, sir, I understand.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

“Yes.”

It was much easier to see the frown without the beard.

“Cody, is everything alright?”

“Yes, sir.” Words boiled in his chest, aching to get out. He needed to get away before they started spilling from his mouth. “I’ll go and get your things. I should have a report ready by tonight.” He started to turn away.

“My things?”

He paused, fighting against a grimace. “I had to pack up your belongings so the quarters would be ready for our new General.”

“Ah.” That, at least, earned him a wince. “Yes, I suppose I hadn’t thought about that.”

He pressed his lips together, resisting the urge to point out that there were a lot of things he “hadn’t thought about.”

Kenobi followed him as he started towards his room, discussing the now-declassified mission as they went. They received a lot of stares, from troopers and ship’s crew alike. One young technician wearing a black armband dropped her toolbox and squealed, pressing herself flat against the wall was they passed.

“Oh dear, she looks like she’s seen a ghost.” Kenobi smiled at him.

Cody couldn’t muster up the energy for a polite chuckle.

The ride in the lift was awkward, made more so because several people had been waiting for it but chose not to join them. Kenobi cleared his throat.

“How have things been here? Did we take back Troyer?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll forward the reports.” He paused, then decided to forge ahead. “We lost a lot of good men in the siege. Dipstick, Rafe, Breaker, Porg; it’ll be in the files.

“I’m so sorry, Cody.” Kenobi reached out as if he was going to rest a hand on Cody’s shoulder again, then seemed to think better of it, letting it drop. “They were good men.”

“And now they’re marching ahead.” The doors slid open and Cody exited, his General still on his heels. There were more troopers here, and a few of them looked like they wanted to approach, but they stayed clear.

It seemed to take an eternity to reach his room, but at last he was handing over the crate that contained Kenobi’s possessions.

“Thank you, Cody.” Kenobi smiled. “It’s good to know that you’re on top of things, as usual.”

Despite everything, he warmed a bit at the praise. _It’s just conditioning,_ he told himself, ignoring the tired gratitude in those bright blue eyes.

“I’m… glad we don’t have to break in a new General. Sir.” It was half joke and half honest admission, and though his heart wasn’t in it, his words seemed to spark a bit more life into Kenobi.

“I’m glad as well. I’m not ready to let go of you just yet.” Some of the old gleam was back in his eyes; a look that frequently promised trouble for anyone on the receiving end.

Cody changed the subject, promising to forward his reports and not quite pushing the General out the door.

“Check in with Patch,” he ordered. “I’ll see you at the afternoon briefing.”

With the door finally closed between them, he counted to ten and then quietly fell apart. He slid to the floor and covered his face with his hands, a keening sob escaping him.

General Kenobi was still alive. The man he… he cared for more than he should was alive and breathing and back on the _Negotiator_ where he belonged. It had all been a lie. They’d grieved over a lie. Cody had lost sleep over a lie. He’d _lost men_ because they’d believed their General was gone. All for what? For politics? For a ridiculous gambit involving the Supreme Chancellor? He turned, punching the door with his gauntleted hand.

It might be irrational, but he couldn’t shake the sense of betrayal. He’d always known that Jedi Business came first with Kenobi and this wasn’t even the first time Jedi Business had clashed with Clone Business, but this time was different. Or at least he’d have thought it was different. Instead, it just turned out to be further confirmation of what most of the _vode_ already knew: they didn’t matter. They weren’t important enough to be told critical information. Information that could have saved lives. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, yet.

Cody stood, muscle-memory taking over as he shed his armor, putting each piece in its place on the rack. He wanted nothing more than to take a longer-than-regulation shower and crawl into bed, but there was too much to do. He opened his door so everyone would know it was okay to come in and talk, and then he sat at his desk and got to work. He sent the reports to Kenobi first thing; they were more formally written than what he usually submitted, but then, he’d been writing them for a stranger. He went through his stack of datapads, forwarding requisition forms and other bureaucratic nonsense that had piled up in Kenobi’s… absence. Normally, Cody would just forge his signature, but signing a dead man’s name had seemed wrong, and so the paperwork had been piling up.

There was a tentative tap on the doorframe and he looked up to see Five-Eight hunched in the opening, looking uncertain. Cody invited him in and they talked. After he left, two more showed up. Then others. They came in ones and twos, sometimes only needing a quick reassurance that yes, it really was the General, but occasionally needing a bit more time to come to terms with it. Five-Eight asked if Cody was certain it was their “real” General and not a clone.

“I don’t think the Jedi work like that, Shiny.”

Five-Eight’s brow creased. “What if it wasn’t the Jedi, though? What if it was some kind of Seppie plot to infiltrate us?”

Cody rubbed his forehead, wishing he could drink while on duty.

“I’m fairly certain the Council would have picked up on it if he was a fake,” he said. “And even if they didn’t, Skywalker definitely would.

Five-Eight fussed with his vambraces. “I just… it’s not that I’m not glad he’s back.” He shot Cody a worried look. “I just… we…”

Cody could see a tiny corner of brown cloth peeking out from under the right vambrace and winced.

“It’s alright, _vod,_ I know what you mean.” He cupped the back of Five-Eight’s head and pressed their foreheads together. The younger clone’s fidgeting slowed to a stop and he let out a deep sigh.

“We’ll get through it. We’ll keep marching and keep fighting. It’s what we do, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.” Five-Eight’s smile wobbled a bit as they both leaned back. “Thank you, sir.”

“Was anything else troubling you?”

“No, sir. That was- I- I’m glad he’s back.”

Cody returned the trooper’s smile. “We all are. Now, get back to your duties before Boil realizes you’re gone.”

“Kriff!” Five-Eight paled. “I mean- yes, thanks, ‘bye!” He almost poked himself in the eye trying to salute and turn around to leave.

Cody chuckled, then turned his attention to his datapad as it beeped. The General wanted to see him. The knot of tension that had been easing between his shoulder blades started to cramp again.

He kitted up again (some habits never died) and strode down the hall to Kenobi’s quarters.

“The door’s open, Cody,” Kenobi said when he knocked.

“You wanted to see-”

Cody froze on the threshold. Kenobi was leaning against his desk, fingering a small square of brown cloth. The expression on his face was hard to read, even without the usual facial hair covering his features. He looked up, blue eyes seeming… somber?

“Do you know what this is, Cody?”

There were several ways he could have answered, and a few he should have tried, but he decided to be direct. Coming to attention, he met his General’s gaze and answered.

“It’s a _kar’ta eyayah,_ sir. A memento of the fallen, carried into battle-”

“-to honor and remember a loved one. Yes, I’m familiar with the custom.” Kenobi continued to toy with the scrap of fabric. “Do… _all_ the men have one of these?”

“As many in Ghost Company as I could manage, sir.” He reached up, unhooking his pauldron and turning it over to reveal the robe scrap pinned inside.

Kenobi leaned forward to look and then seemed to sag against his desk. “I see.”

“We _Remembered_ you, General,” Cody said, reattaching his pauldron. “We added your name to our list. You’re on the Wall.”

It was a holoprojection rather than an inscribed tally, and there were multiple backups among the 212th and other battalions. In the event that the _Negotiator_ was destroyed, no one would be lost or forgotten.

Kenobi flinched. “Cody, I-” He reached up to stroke his beard, found it missing, and wiped his hand across his mouth instead. “I made a mistake. I should have told you. I’m sorry.” Sighing, he sat in one chair and gestured for Cody to sit in the other. “If I’m being honest, I never should have agreed to the damn mission in the first place.”

“Problems?” He considered the chair a moment before sitting. It felt so normal to do this, such a regular part of their routine from Before.

“It was nothing but a string of problems and bad decisions all stitched together from start to finish.” Kenobi pulled out a hip flask and took a swig before passing it over.

Cody took a sniff and was surprised to smell caf. Well, caf laced with alcohol. He took a sip, appreciating the burn down his throat. Hardeen must not have been a tea drinker. A distant part of him was amused that the General managed to survive so long without his tea.

“We were played for rubes,” Kenobi said, draping himself over the chair. “And not only did the mission amount to nothing, but I’ve destroyed every relationship that means anything to me.” He accepted the flask back from Cody and took a deeper drink. “Bant slapped me across the face, Quinlan won’t return my coms, Senator Organa sent me a terse note retracting my invite to the Winter Gala on Alderaan, and Dex actually slammed the door in my face and said I’m not welcome in his diner anymore.”

Cody leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. He doubted the latter two would hold out for long before expressing forgiveness.

“And then of course there’s Anakin and Ahsoka.” Kenobi leaned forward now, catching his face in his hands. The overhead lights showed the faintest reddish fuzz on his head. “I don’t think they’ll ever forgive me. And I’m not sure I blame them. I used their emotions against them. Deliberately. The plan counted on it.”

Having witnessed some of Skywalker’s tantrums before, Cody winced. He was a good General and sometimes remembered to show concern for the men serving under him, but his temper was legendary, and his relationship with Kenobi had always been a bit… fractious.

“And you, Cody.” The General lifted his head, his eyes shadowed and almost gray. “I’ve hurt you- and the men- without even thinking about it. Somehow, in the middle of everything else, it never even occurred to me that you might… that my loss would have such an impact.”

It was hard to know how to respond. Kenobi had blind spots you could fly a star destroyer through, but this seemed to be stretching credibility a little far. There was color pinking his cheeks and the tips of his ears and top of his head were darkening.

“I’m afraid I came to some realizations while I was, ah, away, too,” Kenobi said when Cody failed to say anything. “For starters, I hadn’t realized just how much I’d come to depend on you.” A smile flickered across his face and was gone. “Not just for your brilliant tactics or precision aim, but for your humor, your insights, and the way you always manage to keep me together.”

Cody kept his expression carefully blank. It was hardly the first time Kenobi had commented on his skills, but this felt different. Personal.

“It’s part of the job I was born to do, but I’m-”

“No.” Kenobi reached for him, but they weren’t close enough to touch, so he let the hand drop. “No, I mean- it’s more than that. For me. And I hope I’m more than just a job to you.”

The raw longing on his face was painful to see. Cody averted his eyes.

“Of course you are, sir,” he said softly, reaching up to tap his pauldron.

“Obi-Wan.”

He glanced up, wariness still prickling at his senses. “Obi-Wan,” he agreed.

They were being informal, then. The polite, but stubborn, request to use first names during “off duty” hours had started sometime after their first battle together. It had taken him a while to get used to it, but he’d come to appreciate the gesture. Now, suddenly, it seemed to carry more weight, and despite his anger and grief over what had happened, he was still curious to see where this was leading.

Obi-Wan smiled, scooting his chair closer. His shorn appearance was still distracting and Cody wasn’t entirely sure he could blame Five-Eight and some of the others for thinking they’d been sent some kind of cloned, Shiny version of their General.

“Cody.” Bright blue eyes regarded him. “I- I hope you’ll forgive me for being so forward, but over these past weeks I’ve come to realize just how much I care for you.”

Cody sat back. Until that moment he hadn’t even realized he’d been leaning in. The words seemed to ring through his head and his heart was pounding just a little harder.

Kenobi reached for him again, words tumbling out of him. “I’d never act on it, of course, or force you to do anything you didn’t want, but-”

“General.” He stood, feeling hot and cold at the same time. A few steps backward put more distance between them, even as Kenobi stood up. “Obi-Wan…” he hesitated, unsure how to word things.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Of course. This is a lot to put on you right now, especially after-”

“Sir.” His shoulders twitched straighter. He waited until he was sure he had the General’s attention. “If you’d come to me with this before… Well, before your last mission, I might have been able to give you the answer you want.” Though even now, he still wasn’t sure about that. “But while this past month has, ah, clarified some things for me, I can’t…” He shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anyth-”

_“No.”_ His temper flared, making it easier to say the things he wanted to, even if they weren’t the sort of things a Commander should say to his General. “Sir, this whole attempt to garner pity isn’t working.” He held up a hand, staving off any excuses. “I know that what you went through was bad, and I’m sorry, but things haven’t been easy here, either. You saw the list of our losses.”

“I did. Cody, I-”

“Higher than just about any other point during the war so far.” He briefly closed his eyes, remembering the faces of his brothers. ”What would you say if I told you that some of them died because they thought you’d already gone?”

He watched all the blood drain from Kenobi’s face. “They marched ahead to join you, only you aren’t there.”

Kenobi sat down hard, a hand over his mouth.

“I have… feelings for you,” Cody admitted. “But I’m not done sorting them out yet, and I’m not sure how much of- of _this,”_ he said, waving his hand. “Is about genuine attraction and how much of it is a reaction to circumstances. For _both_ of us.”

He drew a deep breath, letting the familiar smells of the room calm him.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you the answer you want, Obi-Wan. I need to know that this is real. And I need you to understand the severity of what you’ve done. It doesn’t just affect you, it affects all of us.”

“I know,” Kenobi said, quietly. “I mean, I’m beginning to understand that. Thank you for your candor, Cody, I think I needed that.”

“Of course, sir.” He managed not to fidget. “If you don’t mind, I’m due to oversee the training sims in fifteen.”

“Go and torment your Shinies, then.” Kenobi smiled.

“It isn’t the Shinies I’m worried about.” Cody returned the smile, glad to be back on more familiar ground. “See you at the briefing?”

“Of course.”

Saluting seemed wrong, so he dipped his head in acknowledgement and left.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of doubt, second-guessing, and a serious attempt to sort out his feelings. The briefing wasn’t as awkward as he expected, though he noticed that Admiral Block was another name the General could add to his list of people he’d pissed off. Everything proceeded as smoothly as it could and at dinner the troopers found themselves treated to a ration of alcohol; not the caustic jet juice brewed in the engine room, either, but something with a smokey taste to it that Boil identified as whiskey. It was part of the General’s apology, and the men were happy to toast in his honor. Cody sipped his drink and continued to brood.

Later, during rec hour, he saw someone seated in front of the Wall of Remembrance and realized it was Kenobi. There was a lit candle in front of him and he appeared to be meditating. After a brief war with himself, Cody walked over and sat down beside him.

“Sometimes I forget about the things that are truly important,” Kenobi said, eyes still closed. “Thank you for always being here to remind me.”

“My pleasure… Obi-Wan.”

They sat, side-by-side, their knees not quite touching. It was a small start, but it was still a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kar'ta eyayah- heart echo   
> I couldn't find a term for mementos carried into battle so I made one up.

**Author's Note:**

> di'kut- idiot  
> shebs- ass  
> vod/vode- brother/brothers


End file.
